The Man Without Fear
by likehenrydavidthoreau
Summary: Beckett stared at him for a moment, then burst into silent, shaking laughter, doing her best to contain the noise and not wake Castle from what were undoubtedly enjoyable dreams, but she couldn't help it. Laughing just seemed like the thing to do. Post-Always, based loosely on Castle's summer tweets.
1. Chapter 1

They were on the floor when Beckett woke up, blurred sleep in her eyes and a bit of rug burn on her ass. She moved to scratch her shoulder and realized her arm was trapped beneath the lump sleeping next to her: Castle, his upper body and face covered with a white sheet that had materialized out of somewhere. His bed sheets were all pale blue spring bachelors.

Beckett stared at him for a moment, then burst into silent, shaking laughter, doing her best to contain the noise and not wake Castle from what were undoubtedly enjoyable dreams, but she couldn't help it. Laughing just seemed like the thing to do.

With her other hand, she rubbed her blurry eyes and stared up at the ceiling. There was something strange about this moment to her, probably because she had imagined it so many ways, so many times. Waking up with Castle (thought she had generally imagined it in the bed) was both exactly as she had imagined it, and entirely different.

She looked at Castle again, wondering if she should pull the sheet off his face. For all she knew, he was feigning sleep. In her mind, she saw him sitting in his chair at the precinct, that mischievous smile on his face. It was a bit strange, missing an old, tweed chair that had probably been in the precinct for thirty years, holding up stoned delinquents and grieving siblings. And Castle. She wondered if she would ever see that sight again. Most likely not at the precinct. But she would see Castle. She was seeing him now. All of him, in fact.

Right now she wanted coffee, but she wanted Castle more, so she didn't move, but instead closed her eyes on the burnt orange ceiling and thought about strawberry milkshakes and what she was going to do the next day, and the next. If she was going to feel remorse about her choices in the past twenty four hours, well, that would be in the future. Now she just felt tender and fresh and warm. If she was going to eventually fear the unspoken promises she had made to the man beside her, to shy away from the personal revelations they had made to each other– again, the future, and as a rule, Kate Beckett tried not to worry too much about the future. She found that worrying didn't prevent the inevitable.

She dozed off again. When she woke up again Castle wasn't on her arm anymore but he was tucked up against her side like a little puppy. When she woke up again, he was gone.

Beckett forced herself up, peeking around Castle's bedroom door before venturing out through his study and into the living room.

Castle was standing at the window looking out over the street, a cup of coffee in his hand. In the kitchen the coffee machine slowly drip, drip, dripped into a fresh pot. She stood shyly back. She wanted coffee but she didn't want to interrupt his early morning reverie. Unbidden, a prickle of fear itched at her arms as she considered what he could be thinking, and that fact that eventually he would turn and see her in nothing but underwear and a t-shirt. She felt more naked than she had when she had been… well, actually naked.

After a few moments she advanced cautiously into the kitchen. As she expected, he heard her come in. He turned.

"Hey Castle," she said quietly, hiding one eye behind a sheet of hair and reaching slowly for the coffee pot.

"Beckett." He looked at her and grinned, and though she could tell he didn't know quite what to say, she knew everything was going to be all right. She burst out laughing again, but this time she didn't hold back. Castle stared at her, confused, then he looked down at himself. "Is my shirt on backwards? My shorts?"

"No. No." She struggled to hold back tears of laughter, carefully setting her coffee mug on the counter to avoid potential damage. "Nothing like that."

"What is it?" She calmed her gasping breaths and straightened, then smiled back at him.

"Don't you ever feel like laughing just because you're happy Castle?" Then she went for the coffee.

* * *

They sat at the counter silently drinking coffee together. It wasn't so different from most mornings they spent together, Beckett tried to tell herself, but this thought brought on another fit of laughter. Finally, they turned to each other.

"Beckett," "Castle," they spoke at the same time. They grinned at each other.

"You go," "Go ahead," they said, again in unison. Beckett bit her lip to hold back laughter.

Neither of them seemed willing to attempt speaking again, so they just stared at each other, impossible smiles on their faces.

* * *

What did they do? What didn't they do? They made out anywhere they could think, on the bed, at the kitchen counter, on the sofa in plain view of the street just because they could. Beckett allowed no misgivings to enter her mind, not yet. She could remember a time in her life when fear hadn't touched her every move, when the criminal state of New York City hadn't influenced her every decision. And she did her best to live as she had then, before her mother's death, her father's betrayal, before all of it. But not in spite of it, because though perhaps she could not yet admit it aloud, her mother's death had also changed her for the better: made her stronger, driven, the kind of person she felt could equal anyone in the world, including Castle.

They lay face to face on Castle's bed in a nest of light blue sheets, late morning sun lighting the crystal book awards and paperweights on the bookshelf by the window.

"You keep your awards in your bedroom? What, so they're the last thing you see at night and the first thing in the morning?"

Castle glanced at them over her shoulder. He gave her a one shouldered shrug.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"It's good to see your ego hasn't changed since I met you."

"They remind me of the work I had to do to achieve them, and I'm proud of them. Would you rather I kept them on the mantle over the fireplace?"

She sobered, then–

"You have a fireplace?"

"Well, no, not technically, but the point stands."

"Oh, you just like to look at them."

This time he grinned.

"Yeah, pretty much."

She looked back to the bookcase.

"Is that your comics collection?"

"Indeed it is."

"I'm glad to see a healthy stock of Daredevil in there."

"That's right, you said you would be Elektra if you could choose."

"I would, but Daredevil is my favorite superhero."

"Blind man with nothing but billy clubs and extra sensory perception who keeps the underbelly of New York in line. Fitting."

"He's the man without fear."

"And therefore, a better man than I could ever be."

"It's okay Castle, I respect your fear of spiders and dark places."

"At least they're predictable fears that don't hinder my everyday life!" He said defensively. Beckett raised a slow eyebrow as he realized what he'd said. His eyes grew wide. "Beckett, I –"

"It's okay Castle," she cut him off, her eyes on the sunlit window. "I know what you meant. And anyway, you're not wrong."

They were silent for a minute, Castle's eyes on the pillow.

"So are we just going to sit here all day or are you going to kiss me, Castle?" Beckett asked finally in a dry voice. With wide eyes Castle approached for a kiss, but before he made it, she tickle-attacked him in the ribs and they shrieked with laughter, rolling in the morning light on Castle's light blue sheets. Neither could believe the fact that they were together, and having a tickle fight no less, but they kept those thoughts to themselves.

* * *

"This has been an enlightening morning, Detective Beckett. And not just literally." He wiggled his fingers in the dusty shafts of sunlight still hitting the loft.

"If it's been so enlightening, why do you keep calling me Detective? I'm not."

He frowned at her for a minute, fiddling with the sliced tomato and mozzarella he had pulled from the fridge for them.

"Because it's how I met you. It's how you inspired me. It's how I know you. Even if you're not with the police, you'll always be… special. Better, in a way that only someone who does something like you have could be. If it really bothers you that much, I can…" He trailed off as she touched his hand, her touch cool from the glass of lemonade she was holding.

"It's fine Castle." They smiled softly at each other for a minute. "It's not like we're going to stop calling you writer boy behind your back." As Castle's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, Beckett took a bite and grinned.

* * *

When it neared noon, Alexis' expressed time of arrival, Castle caught Beckett eyeing the clock.

"No, no," he moaned. "I wanted to spend every second of forever just like this."

"Seriously Castle?" She raised an eyebrow, hovering powerfully over him on the couch.

"Well, close anyway."

"That… could be arranged." Then she sat back into the cushions, smoothing her hair and her plaid boxers at the same time. "So are we playing it cool, or what?" She asked, gesturing at the clock.

"You mean with Alexis?"

"With everyone."

She saw a hungry look in his eye, and she looked down at her hands fiddling in her lap.

"You want to tell them, don't you?" She asked quietly. Castle had never been one to hold back. He shrugged.

"Frankly, I'd like to shout it from the rooftops if you'd let me…"

She bit her lip and refrained from rolling her eyes. He would do it.

"I would do it, you know," he said, as if reading her thoughts.

"Oh, I know Castle."

His eyebrows raised mischievously and he made as if to get up from the couch.

"So can I?"

"Wait." She pulled him back down by the arm.

"Oh, still want me here Detective?" He leaned in toward her, but she gave him only her cheek.

"No sex right now Castle. This is important."

"Oh, you seriously should not have said that," Castle said as he worked his way along her ear.

"Castle!" She barked his name in her best police voice.

"Yes?" He responded slyly, still not moving away. She stood up and out of his reach.

"I just want…" she motioned between herself and him. "Us. I just want us for now."

"You mean you want to keep it…us, a secret?"

"For now." He smiled as she reached for his ear.

"Your secret's safe with me, Detective."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Thanks for reviewing, those who reviewed. Nice to hear feedback. Thanks also to those who followed, favorited, etc.**

* * *

**Two months later**

"Aaaaare you gonna let me in so I can kiss you, because I kind of really want to seeing as I haven't in like, three days or something, which, if you think about it, is actually a fairly long time in the grand scheme of things and I think you would probably get pretty mad if I tried to break down your –"

"Okay, okay! Get in here Casanova!" Beckett threw open the door to her apartment and dragged him inside by the collar of his shirt. She stopped, a disturbed expression on her face. "Castle, what the hell are you wearing?"

"D'you you like it?" He stood proudly in her entryway, kissing forgotten.

"Dear God." She couldn't hold in her laughter. Red, white, blue, vague flag patterns, eagles, sequins and something else sparkly. "Metrosexual to the very end Castle." He only grinned the wider.

"Are you kidding me? This is the height of manliness."

"Sure, Castle. Keep thinking that. Now kiss me, you idiot. Don't you know it's been three days?" He wasted no time, and she wasted no space, sinking as close to Castle's patriotic-clad body as possible. It had been three days, three quite long days that Beckett had spent with her father at his cabin for a pre-fourth of July celebration. But now she was back in the city, and Castle was back in her apartment, and frankly, she thought, anything could happen.

Finally they broke apart when Beckett threatened to take the kiss further, but Castle had other things in mind.

"So, are you ready for a fourth of July party to end all parties?" He said, eyebrows raised. Beckett took a step back.

"Perhaps. What would such a party entail?"

"You know, the usual Richard Castle themes: drinking, dancing, wildness…"

"All this to celebrate our grand old country?"

"I thought you'd like that, Mrs. Almost-A-Supreme-Court-Justice."

"You just don't seem the type to want to celebrate Uncle Sam's birthday."

"Are you kidding me? Every day my tax dollars are at work paying your salary."

"They used to be, you mean."

"Yeah, yeah whatever." He waved his hand vaguely. "The point is, where would a mystery writer like me be without the CIA, the FBI and the NYPD to write about. Besides, any excuse for a little get together…"

"Wildness, you say."

"Of course," He inclined his head toward her. "Of course. You couldn't expect any less."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Yes, detective, no Richard Castle party is complete without wildness and women."

"Women?"

"Only those who I cannot say no to."

"When have you ever been able to say no to a woman?" She jerked him a little closer, still not forgetting how he had broken that kiss. How she wished he hadn't. "Especially amidst..." she touched her nose to his. "...wildness. Are Lanie or any of the boys coming? Martha and Alexis? You've never been able to say no to Espo, after all."

Castle smiled widely.

"That's the best part of this party. Alexis and my dear mother are spending this holiday weekend with friends leaving my place…" he spread his hands apart. "Open. For any purpose or use which two mature adults such as ourselves could possibly dream up."

"So, basically, booze and sex."

"Yeah, pretty much. You read me so well, Detective."

Beckett glanced around the apartment. It was sweltering here without air conditioning, she had been Castle-less for three days, and there would be nothing here for her over the holiday weekend.

"Okay Mr. Castle, I'll agree to your scam to lure me into bed on one condition."

"Anything," he said, still smiling, his hands now resting loosely on her hips.

"Will there be fireworks?"

"Oh, Detective," Castle said, leaning in closer to her ear. "There will most definitely be fireworks."

* * *

July the 4th

"Cheers, dear Detective."

"Cheers, Castle."

Castle and Beckett tapped their glasses together then drank, him deeply into his gin and tonic, her sipping as she looked slyly over the edge of her glass of red wine at him. They were sitting in Castle's loft, two chairs pulled up to the French windows with a view of the street, the skyline and the pending fireworks.

Castle had wanted to take their drinks and blankets and binoculars and plate of cheese up to the roof; he said it was more romantic. Under the thinly veiled guise of enjoying the air conditioning after days of sweltering 90+ heat, Beckett had refused to move from his living room. The truth was that she _did_ think it would be romantic to sit on the roof and watch the fireworks, and later she might even let him drag her bodily up there, but for now– she didn't want him to know she was that soft, not yet.

So instead they peered out of the open French windows (courtesy of air conditioning strong enough to withstand the heat) down into the streets where people hopped from bar to bar and danced on the sidewalk while the high beams of cabs lit their progress. More than one person had already reached the point where they had to stagger from bar to bar.

Castle looked over at Beckett, who was picking at a piece of Swiss from the cheese plate.

"Remember that time we pretended to be drunk?" he asked, jerking his chin toward a couple making their zigzagging way around the corner. She carefully glanced out the window. Of course she remembered. As if she could have forgotten. Castle was still talking. "One of my best ideas. It totally worked, and it was..."

"Castle." She looked at him with eyebrows raised. "We were undercover. There was a _suspect_. Please."

He shrugged.

"My point still stands. It was amazing." She gave him a small eye roll, and when he reached for her hand she moved it instead toward the cheese plate.

"Aha, detective. So that's how you're going to play–"

In a second her hand was halfway up his arm, pinning his elbow to the armrest of the chair as she gave him a kiss laced with gin and red wine. She heard a hoot from below, but she knew it was aimed at something else entirely because they were hidden from view by the window sash. Still. Then she ruffled his hair until it stood up the way she liked, and sat back in her chair calmly.

"Now that… _that_ was amazing, Castle."

He gulped.

"No argument here."

* * *

A little while later, after his third gin and her third glass of wine, they grew pensive. Castle was rubbing at a few raised scars on the knuckles of his right hand. Beckett wondered if he was remembering the way she had bandaged his hand, or the way he had punched the guy in the nose until they were both bleeding, or the way she had almost died.

"Who do you think wears the pants in this relationship, Kate?" Beckett looked over at him. She glanced down at her shorts, then over at Castle's dark jeans.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you're the one wearing pants right now."

"Funny." He gripped his drink a bit tighter.

"Why, Ricky? Are you worried I'll become too domineering for you?" She teased, recalling the dominatrix case they had worked together years ago. He was, after all, the more happy go lucky of them, and even more likely to laugh at a sex joke than her. To her surprise, he remained sober– well, in the reserved sense, anyway, if not the alcohol-related sense. He looked into her, eyes shining.

"That's my secret, Kate. I'm always worried."

She resisted the urge to back away. Evidently three gin and tonics was the threshold at which Castle started pouring his soul out. There were a million things he could be worried about, plenty of them related to her, and she didn't know if either of them could handle any more drama, not yet.

Part of her was put off that he'd gotten this tipsy this quickly. He really was a lightweight. But she eased the drink from him and held his hand instead, a luxury she only afforded him in private.

"I'm right here, Castle."

"I know you are." Suddenly his eyes looked clearer, but she knew it was only a trick of the light. It would take a bit of time for him to sober up for real, and come around. Until then, well… it's never good to focus on sad thoughts when you're drunk.

"I'm glad we're here, and… that's it's the fourth of July." She couldn't care less what day it was, in all honesty. She just wanted him to cheer up. He looked at her with that look she remembered from a million moments at the precinct, the look of a puppy who would do anything for its master. She didn't want that look. She didn't want Castle the puppy, she wanted Castle the equal, Castle who would fight like hell but still walk away when he saw too much pain for himself and the ones he loved. So she smiled at him, not her soft, sexy smile, but her broad, I'm-glad-you're-here smile. And she held his hand tight until he returned the smile. Then she leaned over toward him.

"And anyway, just wait Castle. I can promise that before long, _neither _of us will be wearing any pants at all."

* * *

Castle did sober up, and quick, after she gave him something plain to drink and some cheese and salami from the platter. He had the dignity to look a bit embarrassed, but she silenced him with a stern, "Castle," and they got back to their stargazing and people watching.

"Where are the fireworks?" Castle whined, checking his NYC Events app for the twentieth time.

"Is that all you care about? Sparkly things?"

"I find sparkly things are always at least 75% more enjoyable than non-sparkly things."

"Of course you do. You have the attention span of a cocker spaniel."

"Oooh, Detective. You cut me. You cut me deep." He pretended to look hurt.

One firework exploded in the distance, long and low, so they couldn't see it, only hear it. Castle's eyes grew suddenly wide.

"They're starting. C'mon Beckett, c'mon, 'cmon." And before she could stop him he had yanked her out of her chair and was pushing her out of his apartment, up the stairs and through the door to the roof.

New York on holiday was laid out before them as they emerged on top of Castle's building. Castle grabbed her hand and held it as they approached the edge, and she let him. A gold shower shot into the sky, signaling the beginning of the display.

"There is so much beauty, just so many beautiful things in the world. It's easy to forget," Castle said quietly, and looked over at her. "Beauty everywhere." Beckett said nothing, but she was touched by Castle's words. He was a good person.

They stood in silence for a few minutes as the fireworks escalated, listening to the ooh's and aah's of the people in the city, and the distant, delayed _booom_ as each shower went off. As the fireworks reached their finale, Beckett carefully intertwined their fingers and gripped Castle's hand tighter.

"Even this… is enough." She hadn't meant to specifically say it out loud, but it didn't matter. She meant it. Together, they were enough. "This beauty." The last blue, green and gold sparks rained down over the city leaving the sky deep black-blue before them.

"I think it's time to go downstairs," he said, his eyes shining, but this time with the remains of the fireworks rather than the remains of gin.

"I completely agree," she said in a low voice.

So they pulled each other down the stairs loosely hand in hand, the boom of fireworks still echoing in their ears and each others' voices still echoing in their hearts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: Just a short one today folks. For those who asked in reviews, there will be more chapters pertaining to the other Beckett-related Castle tweets from the summer (probably two more chapters after this one.) If any more tweets appear, however, I'm always game to write more!**

* * *

July 5th

By Beckett's standards, it was late when they woke– by Castle's, it was early.

It was absolutely delicious to be waking up in Castle's bed again. Keeping their relationship on the DL involved not having sleep overs very often. After all, Castle couldn't just step out on Martha and Alexis without an explanation. As nice as afternoons at her apartment were, or morning coffee and a walk in the park, nothing beat this.

Beckett shifted closer to Castle, her arm around as much of his body as it could reach. She snuffled her nose into his shoulder a bit.

"Beckett. Hi."

"Mmm. Morning Castle."

"Morning, Kate."

"Richard."

"Urgh, you sound like my mother when you call me Richard."

"Castle, we've talked about this."

"We have?"

"You are NOT allowed to mention your mother when we are in bed."

"Oh. Heh. Yeah. Well, at least she's not in the next room over, listening–"

"Castle!"

"Sorry. Sorry. No more, I promise you detective."

Beckett pulled herself away a bit, one hand in his hair and the other on his hip.

"This is nice," she said absentmindedly, quiet.

"Well, duh."

She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes as Castle's lips approached her neck. She let him get a few kisses in, then pulled a little further away. He looked at her, smoothing one eyebrow with his finger.

"I mean it. I like this."

"I do too, Beckett. I would do this everyday if I could." Well, so would she, and she was well aware that the only thing stopping that was her wish to keep their sharing of quarters (so to speak) a secret. She didn't know what to say; she was of two minds about letting their friends know, but she was hard pressed to care too much about it when she had Castle here, in bed, as her lover, friend and partner. That was the first and most important thing. Telling their friends and family could wait or it couldn't, as long as she had Castle.

Still, she wasn't prepared to discuss it, so instead she just grabbed his ears, kissed him on the forehead, said "Coffee," and hopped out of bed. She could hear Castle groaning with abandonment as she went to the kitchen for sunlight, cereal and coffee.

She was already halfway through her bowl of raisin bran when he showed up, hair askew, at the study door. She ignored him; he would come to her. He poured a cup of coffee then let it sit, forgotten, as he fiddled with his phone.

"Alexis?" Beckett asked, glancing at the clock. This was getting ridiculous, constantly worrying whether his daughter would barge in and catch Beckett in just her underwear.

"No, just updating twitter. Evidently holidays make people extra talkative on there." He picked up his coffee and joined her at the bar.

"What could you possibly have to tweet about in the past day? We were here the whole time."

"Oh, nothing," he said mildly, "just the fireworks."


	4. Chapter 4

July 6th

"Anything wrong, Beckett?"

They were sitting in her apartment in midafternoon, the radio softly tuned to the classical station behind them as Castle enthusiastically typed a new Nikki Heat scene into his laptop and Beckett alternated between the classifieds and a James Crumley novel.

They had fixed her place up with several blasting fans that kept it cool despite the 100+ heat wave the past few days.

"Just like in _Heat Wave_ when Rook and Nikki first met," Castle had said suggestively as he crawled under her table to plug in a fan. Really sexy, Beckett had thought.

But when he glanced up again after finishing a sentence (_Nikki didn't think she or Rook would ever forget that night, particularly since they would always have the scars to remind them) _he found her staring at the window with her chin in her fingers.

She looked over at him and smiled softly, then shook her head. He smiled back, said "okay," and returned his attention to their literary alter egos.

"I think I'm in a rut, Castle." He looked up, hitting the save button as he did so. Her gaze was still trained out the window. "I don't know what my life is doing right now. It feels like nothing exciting is happening. I'm used to excitement."

"I don't know, detective. I'd consider yesterday evening fairly exciting…" Castle trailed off, grinning a bit at the memory. She finally turned her focus to him.

"That's not what I mean Castle. I'm… I'm glad we have what we have." She picked at the cushion for a second. "I want you. But I need other things in my life." He closed his laptop and set it aside.

"Isn't that why you're looking at the classifieds?"

She bit her lip. The truth was that she didn't know how to make her life exciting now that she was no longer a detective. It had been so long since she had been without the central, driving purpose of _finding the killer_. She didn't know if it was a new job she sought, or a new apartment, or a new hairstyle. Her time just felt empty. She was used to four A.M. body drops interrupting her sleep (or lack thereof); she was used to late night autopsies and morning coffee and lunchtime murder boards. For so long, a new case, a new killer, a new problem to be solved had been placed in front of her every few days. Now she had gone weeks with only Castle, books, her dad and her spare piece to keep her company, and her mind reeled for a purpose.

Castle snapped his fingers, bringing her out of her reverie.

"I have just the thing!" He pulled out his phone, flipped through his photos, then set it in front of her with the same picture he had showed her over two years before: a view of the beach. "We can go up to the Hamptons! Nobody has to know we're together, I'll tell Alexis and Mother I need some time to write, and it can just be you, me, and the beach. A change of scenery, a getaway! Give you some time to think. Besides, this heat is perfect swimming weather. It'll be fun."

Beckett looked down at the picture trying to imagine herself in a swimsuit in the middle of it. She had been waiting months (well, years, really) for Castle to take her to his house in the Hamptons. She had wanted it since that day Gina showed up at the precinct, just as she had wanted him since that day. But she had never worked up the nerve to ask him after his initial offering.

Castle's immense fortune and property loomed over Beckett like a strange dark cloud filled with pleasant rain. It scared her a bit, living as she had on a cops salary for so long. Still, she could not deny that his well-furnished loft, his Ferrari, his good booze and his house in the Hamptons were not unpleasant realities of their relationship.

Castle was still staring at her, waiting for a response.

"C'mon, Beckett. The Hamptons are beckoning you. Beckoning Beckett. I kind of like that." He grinned devilishly.

She dropped her hand from her chin.

"I would like that Castle." She held back a grin. They could be free at the Hamptons– not worry about Martha or Alexis accidentally walking in on one of their movie make-out sessions, or interrupting their margarita and mystery novel afternoons. At the very least, it would be a change, and some time to think clearly about where she wanted her life to take her next.

He smiled excitedly.

"Excellent. How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Castle, I can't, I have an interview."

"Really? Where?"

"Del Toro's over on Twelfth."

"Beckett, that is so not you."

"Yeah, well not everyone can sit around all day in their underwear and still be making money. And there's not a lot of options in the middle of summer."

"Sure there are. There's the option to go to the Hamptons with me."

"Castle."

"Okay, okay, we'll leave the _after_ the interview if that is all right with the Beckett schedule."

"That's fine," she said, almost snappishly, but inside she was excited. Castle scooted over next to her on the couch and leaned toward her.

"Well, hello there, you lovely young lady. My name is Richard Castle. I like mystery novels, margaritas, and long walks on the beach."

"I'll take it," Beckett said puckishly, and he leaned over and kissed her. She kissed him back, because kissing him was something she enjoyed so immensely she was hard pressed to ever turn him down. He took her hand and she held on until the radio program ended and Beckett's stomach rumbled with hunger for dinner, and they broke their embrace to carry on with their lives.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for hanging on to anybody still reading. I have enjoyed writing this, though have not updated as frequently as I would have preferred.. silly life, getting in the way.**

**There will be an epilogue chapter after this, but this is the final chapter that deals with a Beckett related tweet from Castle's account. But September 24 draws ever closer! Also, this chapter will probably be more fun for you if you've read Castle's books.**

* * *

July 7th

Beckett knocked on the door to Castle's loft, duffel bag in hand. Her interview at Del Toro's had not gone well– it had been years since she had had to interview for a job. Besides, a homicide detective wasn't suited to be a customer service rep. All in all, she was more than ready for a weekend to relax. A weekend to spend alone. Alone with Castle. She smirked wickedly to herself.

Beckett knocked again, and when nobody answered, she fished her spare key out of her purse and used it to unlock Castle's door.

Inside, the loft was quiet. The stereo was off and the lights in the kitchen were turned down. There were no signs of inhabitance: Alexis' music drifting from her room, or Martha running lines to herself on the couch. Or Castle's keyboard clacking away in the study.

Beckett set down her bag by the door and moved quietly inside. She peered up the stairs, then into the reading nook in the living room, but–

"Castle!"

"Beckett!"

Castle was frozen mid stride on the way out of his study, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

"You're naked!"

"Yeah, I–" he stood frozen another minute, then scrambled til he found a pillow with which to cover himself. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting anyone." He took a step back.

"It's okay Castle." She smirked again. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

He stared at her with glazed eyes for a second, then shook himself.

"Right, right. Of course. First order of business: pants." Beckett watched not without interest as he disappeared into his bedroom again. She sat down on the couch, and he reappeared a minute later, clothed.

"Can I get you a drink, detective? I wasn't expecting you so early." She checked her watch.

"Yeah, well, the interview wrapped a bit early." Castle opened his mouth to ask her about it, but she cut him off. "I don't wanna talk about it Castle. And I don't need a drink. We're going to get going soon, aren't we?"

Castle frowned a bit, then sat down beside her on the couch. She put a hand on his thigh and spread her fingers luxuriously.

"Was Del Toro's really that bad?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Castle." And she didn't. She didn't want to think about her work situation at the moment. Perhaps now, as she interviewed for jobs, it was finally starting to sink in: _I am not a detective anymore. I am not a police officer. I cannot carry a gun, and I cannot catch the bad guy._

Castle spoke again while she was still thinking.

"I'm sorry Beckett… we can't go to the Hamptons this weekend. Something came up." He looked glumly at her, and she sighed.

"What is it now, Castle? Dinner with a Black Pawn representative? Drinks with Gina? Target practice with Esposito?" She asked bitterly. Castle shifted his knee away from her a bit so her hand fell to her side.

"Mother and Alexis already had plans at the house, had already invited friends up with them. So they've got command of the house for the weekend. If we joined them, it wouldn't exactly be the romp we had planned."

Beckett slumped back into the couch and grabbed the book off the coffee table next to her: _Heat Wave._ Then she sat up.

"I guess we'll just have to make our own getaway here then, Castle," she said, leaning into him.

"Really?" He perked up at once. "I mean, at least we'll still have time to be together, even if it's not at the beach, and I'm sorry Beckett because I know the Del Toro's thing wasn't pleasant and that you really wanted to go to –" Beckett stopped his mouth with a kiss.

* * *

Beckett drove the getaway car to her place: the Beckett cave, where they had never spent the night because if Castle disappeared for more than a few hours at a time, Martha and Alexis started asking questions.

When they arrived Beckett threw open the windows to let the stifling heat out. Castle plucked her copy of _Heat Wave_ from the shelf and flopped on her couch. He opened to the first page while Beckett pulled martini ingredients out of the cupboard.

"Really, detective? Martinis at 3 o'clock in the afternoon?"

"If you're going to start reading Nikki Heat, I think we need a drink. Do you seriously read your own books Castle?"

He smiled innocently.

"I'm sentimental like that." He took a deep breath and read in his best bookstore voice: "'It was always the same for her when she arrived to meet the body.' What prose."

Beckett shoved a martini into his hand and stole the book from him.

"Hey, I was just getting started!"

"That's what I was worried about."

She flipped inadvertently, as she always did, to the title page that Castle had signed to her.

_To Beckett_, it said. _I mean it._

She snapped the book shut before Castle could look over and see her misty eyes, then took a long sip of her drink. Meanwhile, Castle had found her copy of _Naked Heat_ in a stack of books next to the couch.

"I guess I'll just have to read this instead then. I mean, _Heat Wave_ has waaaay less racy scenes than _Naked Heat_ but if you prefer that I read from this –"

"Racy? What are you Castle, a middle-aged father?"

"Um, I'm not sure how to answer that, Beckett."

"Oh. Right." But he grinned.

"I know what you're thinking, though. Richard Castle, shying away from the salacious details of his own novel? But I was only thinking of you, detective, and I think we would both enjoy _Naked Heat_ more anyway."

"I didn't sign up for a book reading here Castle," she said, but she didn't even know why. She imagined him reading to her about Heat and Rook; a brief moment of shivers shook her body despite the heat. She tried lamely to snatch the book from him, but he held it out of reach.

"Nikki Heat pondered red lights and why they seemed to last so long when there was no traffic." Castle's voice dripped seduction.

"Thank you for that Castle, because traffic lights are endlessly sexy to me."

"Okay, okay. You're so demanding." He flipped ahead a few chapters. "Rook paused and added, 'You know exactly what you've been missing, and so do I.'" Beckett grabbed the corner of the book so they were holding it between them.

"This is right after they get captured by the Texan the first time."

"You know, I duct taped myself to a chair to research these scenes."

"Nikki and Rook get into an awful lot of scrapes."

"And we don't?"

"We did. But not even as many as them. "

"Well we're just better at avoiding them, I guess. Or, you are, at least."

"I thought Nikki was a _smart, savvy detective_." Beckett said, imitating Castle's tone. He shrugged.

"She is. But she couldn't be as smart and savvy as you. That'd be weird. Or something. And almost unrealistic."

"Are you saying I'm unrealistic?"

"I'm saying you're too good to be true."

She smiled, but squinted her eyes a bit.

"I'm not perfect."

"Never said that either."

They looked at each other for a few minutes, then Castle turned back to the book.

"Rook slowly lowered, bending himself to kiss her, but it wasn't fast enough for what was building inside Nikki."

"Castle?" Beckett interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Can we have sex?"

A smile spread across his face as he dropped the book to the ground beside him.

"You have to know the answer to that, Beckett."

* * *

When Beckett awoke, it was dark in her apartment except for the glow of Castle's phone lighting his face and collarbone on the bed next to her. She shifted a bit.

"Awake, are we?" He asked as he finished typing something.

"Is this the part where you pull Sushi Samba and a pitcher of margaritas out of my fridge, Castle?"

Castle turned off his phone and the room went dark. A dog barked outside her window somewhere.

"Mmmm, Sushi Samba. If only that place was real."

"I consider it your best invention," Beckett said into her pillow as Castle snuggled closer to her.

"And this soft, comfy mattress of yours is really the only reason I'm here, detective," he replied in kind.

"What time is it anyway? Who were you texting?"

"Not texting, tweeting. And it's 12:25."

"Tweeting, again. Is your life really that interesting, Castle?"

"I will have you know some of my fans enjoy knowing every detail of my life," he said as he snaked an arm around her waist.

"Every?" Beckett raised her eyebrow though she knew he couldn't see it in the dark.

"Well, almost every. Anyway, I was just tweeting about enjoying _Naked Heat_."

"You tweeted about your own book?"

"In a manner of speaking."

They were both quite for a minute, allowing their breath to mingle as Beckett though about Heat and Rook and midnight sushi. Then she sat up.

"We're on vacation Castle, and when I'm on vacation I do what I want. And I want food."

He rolled over to her side, which was still warm, and tried to pull her back into the bed by the waist. She poorly contained her laughter as she escaped the covers, promptly ran into her dresser, and struggled into some clothes.

"Noooo, Beckett. As soon as you put clothes on, it's all over for me."

She returned to the bed and kissed him.

"You mean you wouldn't rather have intelligent conversation and fine dining at this hour, Castle? I'm amazed."

"Sex with you is like intelligent conversation."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."


	6. Chapter 6: Epilogue of Sorts

**This wraps up the Man Without Fear storyline, but I have another chapter in the works– it seems the WriteRCastle twitter account has alluded to Beckett once again!**

* * *

It was morning. It was a sun-streaming, gorgeous, after-the-storm morning and Beckett was waking up in the same bed as Castle. Her bed. Their bed. Didn't matter.

They slept in, or at least they laid in bed for a long time not bothering to get themselves up and out. They read the paper and kissed and held hands and did the romantic things that Beckett's hard side usually considered unmentionable. _Naked Heat_ lay forgotten on the floor beside the bed. They were pleasantly numb and blissful until Castle got up to make coffee and Beckett joined him at her bar and Castle blundered into the conversation topic of when they were going to tell the world they were together so that they could spend every morning like this.

Beckett flinched. She felt the same heart-clenching fear she did every time she thought about this, the same fear that she had felt for years but magnified by what she now had– the fear that Castle would not wait for her to be ready. But knew that the topic could only be avoided for so long. She took a fortifying gulp of coffee, then turned to Castle.

"Aren't you worried… afraid of what people will say? I mean, for God's sake they have a pool on when we'll get together!"

Castle giggled a bit. "I know. I had money down on next winter." Beckett stared at him in horror, and he quickly sobered. "I'm kidding Beckett, I know, I'm terrible. I'm sorry. But I'm not afraid of that. Why would I be afraid of being with you Kate? I don't care who knows."

"I just… don't like being the subject of gossip. And for me, I mean, I've spent years…"

"Pretending you hated me? Actually hating me?" Beckett was silent for a moment.

"You were just so hateable at first."

"And now?"

She bit her lip.

"Not so much." She sat down with a thump on the barstool. "I promise you we will tell them. I just need time." As soon as the words left her mouth, Beckett realized that she had been asking Castle for time for years, and he had waited for her time after time because he cared. He simply cared.

There was only so much she could ask of him. She leaned closer, putting her arm around him and her lips to his ear. "We _will_ tell them though, Man Without Fear. I absolutely promise." She smiled into him. He smelled like coffee. "This is just the beginning."


End file.
